At 22 I made a video with my then boyfriend (not that kind of video, ya nasty) about what I wanted to accomplish by 30. Unfortunately I do not have the video to refer back to as he deleted it when we broke up- salty.
Anyway, I remember having such grand plans of what I wanted my life to look like and the accomplishments I should have by the time I turned 30.
My life is nothing like I had envisioned. It’s great just different.
For years leading up to it, I was incredibly conscious of that target to the point of sometimes crippling anxiety. I’d think about turning 30, and palpitations would follow with a sense of foreboding ‘I am not going to do everything am I?, I’m failure if I don’t make my goals, all my peers are getting along nicely, there must be something wrong with me…’ and the constant head chatter would regurgitate itself every so often.
Then there were the advice from those in their 30’s, talking about how amazing it will be and how much you’d enjoy it. Their opinions were met with my dubious side eye, raised left eyebrow and pursed lips “sure”.
But here I am 6 months into being 30 not having achieved all of my previous goals and thinking what was the big deal? Life hasn’t come to a halt because things didn’t go according to my plan and it also did not require me to stop working towards them just because I’m 30, in fact quite the opposite.
I have opted to continuously recommit myself to, well, me, in every aspect and there’s no age limit on that-it’s entirely up to you.
Don’t limit yourself. If things don’t work out as planned, oh well, it’s not the end of the world. Keep going, take a step back if you need to, but simply don’t quit.